


Like Clockwork

by wefellasangels



Series: The 'Like Clockwork' Series [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depression CW, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, King of Hell Crowley, Other, anxiety cw, mental health cw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:53:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4184028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wefellasangels/pseuds/wefellasangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley does his best to keep you from sinking back into your despair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Clockwork

**Author's Note:**

> requested by @sometimes-musics-the-only-way on tumblr

You can see the layer of worry beneath the conspiratorial glint in his eyes. You sigh inaudibly, already anticipating his next suggestion.

“No.”

“I haven’t even said anything yet,” Crowley replies.

“I know – but I don’t want to start that conversation.”

“What conversation?”

“You _know_ wha-“

“Yes, of course I know,” Crowley interrupts, feigning impatience. “That’s not how you want to _solve_ things, yes?”

“Right on point.”

Rain beats against the window, the sky outside the kitchen window a sickly grey. The clouds look like bruises and the occasional flash of lighting like a scar. You and Crowley sit across from one another in the small kitchen booth, an unopened newspaper and two mugs of untouched tea still resting on the table top.

Right arm propped on the table, Crowley rests his head in his hand, his other hand drumming a silent rhythm on the wood.

“It’s just a deal,” he continues anyway.

“Sell my soul for a decade of stable mental health and then hell hounds pay me a visit?” You scoff. “I don’t think so.”

“Well aren’t you blue skies and butterflies.”

You glare at him. “It’s not funny.”

“I know. We’ve been together for the past eleven years, you think I don’t know how serious this is? I’ve been there through the nightmares, the days when you refused to leave the bed, when –“ his voice breaks slightly “-when you would hide the blades in places you thought I wouldn’t find them…“

Your eyes sting and there is a lump in your throat. You keep the tears behind a dam and avoid making direct eye contact.

“And each time you helped me get through whatever I was dealing with,” you concede. “But there was no deal involved – no _spell work_ required, Crowley. And it was a lot of work – on both of our parts – but each time was a step forward. So to only have ten years – “

“Isn’t an issue when you’re making a deal with the King of Hell. _I_ write the contract, _I_ set the conditions. You want fifty years…a hundred years, I’ll grant them to you.”

“And once I die?”

“My pups stay leashed – won’t come anywhere near you.”

“But-“

“Your ticket downstairs? Not part of the contract.”

You run your hands over your face and exhale. The same discussion, the same options, and the same temptation.

“I want to get better, Crowley – but not like this. I don’t want a cure-all, end-all type of solution. I want to work through this on my own…”

“Darling, you hardly have to do this alone.”

“If you leave again I might have to,” you answer, your heart-rate increasing as you think back through the last few years. “The Winchesters have kept you pretty preoccupied.”

Crowley shifts in his seat, both arms on the table now as he holds the mug of tea between his hands. “They have…but it shouldn’t be a problem for long.”

You smile sadly. “Like you said a few years ago, right before the apocalypse started? Or right before they trapped you and kept you in their basement?”

“ _Dungeon_ …not nearly as homey as a basement.”

“Of course – my mistake.” Your smile fades as you remember days, weeks, sometimes months passing in an empty apartment. There were times when the sound of your footsteps on the hardwood floor would echo, the repetition and persistence of the sound suffocating you. As the sun went down, panic attacks would creep up on you in the form of shadows seeping in from the windows…

“…hey, stop…you need to stop that.” Crowley had been trying to get your attention, and you bring your focus back to the present. He’s holding both of your hands in his and trying not to look worried.  

“You with me?” he inquires and you nod your head ‘yes’. Both you and Crowley look down at your arms, beads of blood forming on top of the skin.

“You were picking at your scars again,” Crowley explains, addressing the look of confusion on your face.

You sigh and close your eyes for a moment. Although it had diminished since Crowley returned, the anxiety was still there – and your scar-picking compulsion had tagged along. You open your eyes and the wounds on your eyes are closed once more, clear of blood.

“Thank you.”

“We’ll work through this, darling. We will.”

Crowley doesn’t say anything after that. He just remains still, holding your hands in his. You’re confident that this discussion will take place again in the near future, but this time the thought doesn’t bother you so much. At least between now and then you can be assured the apartment will continue to contain _two_ damaged souls, as it was meant to.

 

 

  

 


End file.
